windeth to her pudor puflF, the lipalip one whose libe we drink at, how biff for her contractations tugowards his personeel. Echo, choree chorecho! O I fay! Face at the ma- croscope telluspeep. From the Cat and Cage. O, I can feel they are becoming lothed to me. It was merely out of his then pseudo- jocax axplanadon how, according to the herreraism of a helo, chesth of champgnon, eye of a Mons held by the salt say water there’s nix to nothing and celescalating the himals and all, after doing all your wanings send us out of two barreny old perishers, Tytonyhands and Vlossyhair, a